


View All But Death With A Child's Eyes

by pettiot



Series: Professionals Timeline [3]
Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-25
Updated: 2010-09-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22242073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettiot/pseuds/pettiot
Summary: Returning to England after six years away, Bodie can't work out why he's so unsettled, what with trauma being a dirty word.
Series: Professionals Timeline [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600894
Kudos: 1





	View All But Death With A Child's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after Krivas murders Bodie's girlfriend, being the act which precipitates Bodie's return to England.

The old fridge tended to start up alarmingly. Helping himself to tea, Bodie burned a scar into the bench when his cigarette fell from lips startled open. Neither sheepish apology or spongework could erase it.

The telly buzzed, inexplicably brutal. Bodie tried to think of something better to do than retreating.

In England for fourteen days, London for four, it would take him years to acknowledge that what he felt now was something other than relief.

On the fire escape outside a friend's flat, Bodie stood guard against the suspicion he had never left, when six years of memory testified otherwise. He should be out cruising, or inside, showing gratitude for having a bed. Just another Saturday night. What would he have to do, how far would he go, before he'd get away?

Lamplight starred on the ranks of passing windscreens; overhead, clouds stewed slowly, typical English rain. Friendly weather, compared to the storms he'd seen.

The comparison ambushed him with bitterness.

Bodie promised to bring her home. Not three streets away, he left her ghost in a white-stone cemetery that glittered when wet like a dream. It would rain tonight. No dogs in the gutters, here. No magpies dancing up a feast. No red soil stains, nor stained red soil. No oiling his hardware in the sun after storms, mud on his boots, and her easy smile.

Lighting up his next cigarette, his hand shook.

He stared at it, astonished.

In a blind fit of rage that came and went swift as remorse, he flicked the cigarette away, the packet, even the matches, quick ripping motions that turned the rejection into a ticker-tape parade. The distraction over too soon.

Mildly surprised, Bodie realised he would have to forget about making comparisons ever again.

  



End file.
